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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454990">Inspired</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoxanneRolls/pseuds/RoxanneRolls'>RoxanneRolls</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCIS</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:20:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoxanneRolls/pseuds/RoxanneRolls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Palmer interrupted a lovely Slibbs moment after the band concert in "Sturgeon Season." Argh!  So I speculated about what happened after Gibbs took care of Jimmy's issue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Inspired</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a “missing scene” for the Season 17 episode “Musical Chairs” and the Season 18 episode “Sturgeon Season.” The first section is based on the “Sturgeon Season” scene set after the band concert, with dialogue written by Scott Williams. The other two sections are original.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Inspired</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>By Roxanne Rolls (MAHC)</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>After the band concert in the episode "Sturgeon Season":</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“So?” she asked, as they walked side-by-side through the auditorium doors and into the cool evening, feeling mellow from being enveloped by the Marine Band’s performance. His long stride had relaxed into a casual stroll.</p><p> </p><p>“So?” he echoed, drawing out the word, acting as if he had no idea what she was asking.</p><p> </p><p>She eyed the smile that curved his lips and opened her mouth in mock surprise. “You’re still not gonna tell me!”</p><p> </p><p>Half-laughing, he asked, “Tell you what?” when she pressed a hand against his chest. He turned toward her at the soft prompt, and they stood facing each other on the sidewalk.</p><p> </p><p>Instead of answering directly, she pointed at the gash over his left eye, then lifted that same hand to his temple, brushing her thumb gingerly across the angry wound.</p><p> </p><p>He stepped into her touch, still smiling, and she watched his eyes enjoy the opportunity to study her hair, her face. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess Emily packs quite a wallup, huh?” she challenged, wondering if she could pry the truth out of him tonight.  Her medical inspection lasted only a few seconds before her hand slid into a smooth caress of his jaw and neck, and she felt space between them closing, as if he might just kiss here right here in front of –</p><p> </p><p>“Agent Gibbs!” Jimmy Palmer jogged out of the building toward them, jerking Jack’s head – and the moment – away.  “You have a second?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jack, there’s fishing, and there’s <em>sturgeon</em> fishing,” Gibbs declared immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“Right!” she replied, falling into the ruse without hesitation.</p><p> </p><p>“Sturgeon’s a <em>fighting</em> fish!” he continued.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course!” she agreed passionately.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” he answered before turning casually to the M.E.  “What, Palmer? What’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>Jimmy looked between them awkwardly. “Oh, ah, it’s actually kind of private.”</p><p> </p><p>Jack saw her prospects for the evening crumble  “Oh. Okay. Sorry.  Well, have a good night,” she said, forcing her voice to remain upbeat. At least the expression on Gibbs’ face told her he was equally disappointed with the interruption – maybe even more so.</p><p> </p><p>He was looking back at her now, handsome features composed, but those blue eyes not nearly as sparkling as they had been only a few seconds earlier.</p><p> </p><p>Giving him as pointed a look as she dared with Palmer staring at them, she said, “I’ll call you later,” hoping he didn’t mind.  Also hoping he would be home to call and whatever Palmer’s issue was would not consume the entire night.</p><p> </p><p>Unable to resist taking a quick peek back, she saw Gibbs watching her, his jaw hard with…what? Irritation? Relief? Regret?</p><p> </p><p>Breaking into a light trot toward her parked car, she contemplated his expression, and her eyes widened when she realized it was none of those things.  Instead, she was almost certain she saw longing in those captivating eyes; she was pretty sure her own face reflected the same.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>End of "Sturgeon Season" scene</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Despite having told Gibbs she would call him later, she had not.  That did not mean she had not thought about it.  Or pulled up his name in her phone.  Or let her finger hover over the number. For several seconds.</p><p> </p><p>No. She decided if Gibbs was able to talk, he would call her himself. Jimmy had looked pretty serious, and he had been so distracted by whatever weighed on him that his usually automatic courtesy took a backseat to urgency.  So, Gibbs was most likely, at that very minute, tangled up in red tape or –</p><p> </p><p>She would not go there.  Even though her own gut was rumbling. She would not fall back on the nagging, ever-present thought about how dangerous his job was, how any minute he could –</p><p> </p><p><em>Damn it!</em> She had said she would not go there. If something had happened, she would have heard by –</p><p> </p><p>The hard rapping on the polished wood of her front door fell right in line with those dark thoughts that pushed themselves through her carefully cultivated calm.  Dragging in a deep breath, she rose slowly from the sofa, taking her time as she tread in sock feet to stand on the inside of the threshold. All was well at that moment, but once she opened the door, anything could interlope on her peaceful situation.</p><p> </p><p>The rap repeated, harder this time, followed by a voice.  A very familiar, very welcome voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Jack! You in there?”</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh, thank God!</em> She fumbled for the lock, having to twist twice to release it, she was so eager to see him, so relieved, and a little chagrined that she let her imagination run wild.  Once the door was flung open, she greeted him with a grin and head-to-toes embrace, squeezing her arms around his neck and pressing her body into his so forcefully that it drew an “oompf” from him before he caught on and eagerly participated.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Jack,” he laughed, voice muffled in her hair. “Ya miss me?”</p><p> </p><p>Even though a voice in the back of her mind reminded her to play it cool, she could not stop the first words that blurted from her mouth. “What took you so long?”</p><p> </p><p>He pulled away, tugging off his overcoat and draping it neatly on the hall tree by her door.  In an effort to reclaim a calm demeanor, she headed to the kitchen to pour them both a cup of coffee.  But on the way, she still prompted, “So?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah,” Gibbs answered casually, “Palmer’s car blew up.”</p><p> </p><p>She spun around so quickly that he had to grab her to keep her from lunging into the door frame. “<em>What?” </em></p><p> </p><p>He shrugged. “Told me he lost a body and then – “</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Holding his palms up, he said, “What <em>what</em>? I’m <em>tellin’</em> ya. Palmer told me he lost a body, and then I told him I’d meet him in autopsy, and he headed to his car, and it…blew up.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, my god! Why? Is he okay? Are <em>you</em> okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Working on that. Pretty much. And I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>She shook her head, even though she should know him well enough, after three years, not to expect Leroy Jethro Gibbs to overflow with emotion, despite the fact that his medical examiner – and friend – and almost gotten killed after a band concert.  But almost immediately, she caught something else flash across that very, very handsome face, and her long years of professional experience, in addition to the few years of Gibbs’ experience, recognized it.  Fear. Oh, not personal fear.  She didn’t think that even existed for him.  Unless it was fear of commitment, she add ruefully. No, this was fear for Jimmy Palmer.  Fear for the loss of a husband, a father, and a friend. Deciding not to call him on it, she drew on a mask of indifference as best she could and strolled back toward the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Pouring him his usual spoon-standing brew and dousing hers with five seconds of sugar, she held out his cup and asked, as if she could not care less, “What was it all about?”</p><p> </p><p>The smirk that pursed his lips – and was so freaking cute, damn him – told her he saw right through her ruse. Regardless, he took the coffee, settled on the couch, and explained about Corporal Darby’s missing body, Palmer’s near-miss, and the protective details dispatched to guard Jimmy and Agent Tyler.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow,” she finally said, sitting next to him and curling her legs beneath her.  “You’ve had quite an evening already.  Not sure any entertainment I can offer will top that.”</p><p> </p><p>The coffee mug froze midway to his lips, and she replayed the words in her head. The heat that flushed her cheeks had nothing to do with fresh java. </p><p> </p><p>Cup still half-lifted, he arched one sharp brow, cut his eyes to consider her, and said archly, “Oh, I doubt that.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>XXX</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“I was right,” he whispered, the sated huskiness of his voice stroking nerves that still hummed in the afterglow of their passion.</p><p> </p><p>Unable to muster enough energy to form a coherent word, she managed to hum a question into his chest.</p><p> </p><p>His chuckle rumbled beneath her ear just before she felt the tender press of lips against her forehead.  “Your…offer.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hazy brain smiled. She grunted in comprehension.</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely topped anything else I did this evening.” Deft fingers danced up and down her spine. “Or any other evening,” he added softly.</p><p> </p><p><em>Oh Cowboy, you have no idea,</em> she thought, stretching a leg across his thighs and an arm around his waist to snuggle closer into his long body. </p><p> </p><p>It had been years since she had felt such physical intensity with a lover.  It had been <em>never </em>since she felt such an emotional connection.  She wondered if that was too corny to admit – or maybe too risky.  She didn’t know how Gibbs felt about it.  Oh, he enjoyed the evening, no doubt about that.  He <em>was </em>a man, after all, and she had never been with a man who <em>didn’t</em> enjoy the sex.  Still, in the midst of their mutual groaning, arching, and thrusting, she felt the tenderness in his caresses, heard the affection in his whispers, and that meant perhaps even more than the sheer, raw pleasure they had shared, which was saying a lot.</p><p> </p><p>Snuggling into his warmth, she murmured, “I’m glad you came.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well…yeah, Jack.  Me, too.”</p><p> </p><p>She groaned at his deadpan delivery, slapping lazily at his chest, too relaxed to be embarrassed. “Don’t be cheeky. You know what I meant,” she protested. “Glad you came <em>over to my house</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like mine better.”</p><p> </p><p>This time, she laughed, still a little breathless.  “Yeah, I like yours better, too.”</p><p> </p><p>He shifted so that he could look into her eyes. “Now who’s being cheeky?”</p><p> </p><p>The direct gaze allowed her to scrutinize the nasty gash over his eyebrow. She winced in empathy, reaching up to stroke it tenderly.  “You still not gonna tell me how you got that?”</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, and she was on her way to conceding when he surprised her.  “Accident,” he admitted softly.  “Tobias…he’s still dealin’ with…what happened.”</p><p> </p><p>Pushing up on an elbow, she frowned. “I thought you said Emily was doing okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he told her, a little too quickly.  “Yeah, she is. Just…you know…he’s a dad, so…”  A touch of sadness weighed down his tone, and Jack had a feeling that he was imagining the what-could-have-been if Kelly had lived. </p><p> </p><p>There was something else, too, something he was not telling her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.  She forced back the impulse to probe, not wanting to ruin the moment any more than she might already have.  He seemed to appreciate her silence, because he slid his arm around her shoulder, easing her back down to rest against him. Deciding she was more than content enough to let it go, she relaxed into his warm body.</p><p> </p><p>For a while, they lay quietly, drifting on the edge of torpor.  Jack let her hand skim indolently over Gibbs’ chest, her fingers following her thoughts as she repeated her caresses from their earlier passion.  The light spread of silver-gray hair made an enticingly masculine pattern, starting at the base of his throat, widening over his firm pectorals, then narrowing and darkening down the flat abdomen.  She moved lower, musing over how much energy either of them might have left to go another round.</p><p> </p><p>Despite the mist of lethargy cradling them, her fondling found solid evidence to support the viability of that very possibility.</p><p> </p><p>“Jack – “ he groaned, his breathing sharper as he pressed up into her touch.</p><p> </p><p>She grinned in both satisfaction and anticipation, her grip widening as he did. “Impressive,” she praised sincerely.</p><p> </p><p>Pulsing when she gave him a squeeze, he managed, “You inspire me, Sloane.”</p><p> </p><p>Pleasure – and maybe a little pride – warmed her.  “Feeling’s mutual, Cowboy.”  And she meant it. He inspired her to let go of baggage. He inspired her to share feelings.  And, even though she was not yet ready to admit it aloud, he inspired her to love.</p><p> </p><p>Twisting onto his side, he threw one long leg over her hip and dragged her into his embrace, trailing kisses down her neck until his lips pressed hot against her breast.  “How ‘bout we inspire each other again,” he murmured.</p><p> </p><p>If she could have uttered anything remotely coherent, she would have told him that idea was…inspired.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> END</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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